


we write our own destiny

by salamandersaladman



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, M/M, Red String of Fate, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:36:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamandersaladman/pseuds/salamandersaladman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Laurens is one of the few gifted with the Sight, the ability to see the Red String of Fate attached to every living human. And his best friend, Alexander Hamilton, wants nothing to do with the concept of predestination.</p>
<p>Soulmate!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	we write our own destiny

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by one of the many prompts on silentpeaches tumblr
> 
> thanks for reading<3

“I need your help John.”

 

It was not the first time Alexander Hamilton had uttered that phrase, nor would it be the last. The two had been best friends since college, and known for their mischievousness. They had roamed the campus with glinting eyes and twin smiles, the sight of them together was almost mythical, ao known were they for their quick wit and quicker tempers. 

 

“I would not fear them,” their joint best friend, Lafayette, had once remarked to an outside observer. “I would fear for them. They were born without instinct for self preservation. They will go to any lengths. Only ever egging one another on, never talking any sense.”

 

Usually Alex’s famous sentence was followed by a ridiculous request, such as “We’re going to give Jefferson’s frat house a new coat of paint tonight” or “I tried to prove to Laf that I was small enough to fit into the cupboard and, while I won twenty dollars, I am stuck.”

 

Alex was the mastermind, the head on their shared body. Often, speaking his thoughts was not even required. A glance exchanged was enough, they spoke on frequencies most ears were untrained to hear.

 

Sometimes the statement was followed by more crucial requests. “I don't want to take my anxiety medication but I can't  _ breath _ what do I do?” Or “Eliza wants to take a break and spend some time apart, what if she decides she doesn't want me anymore?”

 

Over time, John’s sensibility steadily increased. He never outgrew his ability to feel and feed into Alex’s fire, but he adopted a role as the voice of reason and reassurance. They needed a balance, and he was happy to provide it. Neither of them were reckless college boys any longer, they were men. And while both still wore their passions on their sleeves, the requests for help grew more and more mundane. And John never refused Alexander. 

 

But Alexander had never asked him to do something like this before.

 

“You're the only one I know who can See it. Hell, maybe the only one in the country.” Alex gripped John’s shoulders tightly, eyes pleading and breaking John in ways the shorter boy couldn't possibly understand. “I need you to tell Eliza I'm her soulmate. She'll never have to know otherwise.  It's the only way she'll go through with the wedding.”

 

If two people were meant to be with one another, destined by the stars and heavens above, their wrists were connected by a thin red string. The Red String of Fate. Many people believed that when you found this person you would feel it instantly. A spark or a great sensation would wash over your body. You'd feel fireworks when your lips first touched. You'd  _ know _ .

 

But John knew better. The universe was far too cruel for something so simple. Instead, a small few were granted the gift of Sight from birth until death. Only these elite few, with commonly less than four born every fifty years, could see the string.

 

Many of these blessed ones chose to work for money, once they realized the weight of their power. They would sit in their cozy, 12th floor offices, and make true love a commodity. For a huge fee they would tell you who your string was attached too. And you simply had to trust in the word of this cold, greedy person who possessed the Sight.

 

Sometimes they were kidnapped. It happened less often in America, but it was common across most borders.  _ They are born with the gift, it is their destiny to spend their life serving it.  _ These children, often taken young, were forced to travel around like a circus act, either breaking people's hearts or beginning their quest.

 

In either case, these elites were viewed with God- like reverence, branded the Blessed Ones.

 

John felt more like a Cursed One. He did not believe in interfering with love, or meddling with the concepts of fate versus free will. Humanity had struggled with the concept for years; do we control destiny or does destiny control us? He wanted no part of it.

 

In John’s mind, love was the most powerful force in the universe. The day he learned how fear inspiring the Blessed Ones were, and that not everybody saw the little knots around their wrists, was the day he resolved to never tell another living soul. It was the one thing he was never reckless about. 

 

Until Alex.

 

When he had met Alexander, the boy who gained his complete trust in less than twenty four hours, he had confessed his secret only after years of friendship. Even then, the only other person he allowed to know was Alex’s girlfriend since high school, Elizabeth Schuyler. Not even Lafayette could ever know. It was too dangerous, much too perception altering.

 

When he had learned what John was, a creature worth millions in other countries, a goldmine of answers and solutions to life’s most ancient mysteries,  he had only asked one question.

 

“Is it Eliza?” 

 

“No.” John had whispered and Alex nodded, face resolved.

 

Any normal person might have expected Alexander to move on after that, to begin his quest for his  _ true _ love. Instead the two had gotten engaged.

 

“Alexander,” John took a deep breath. His friend was not somebody you argued with. When Alexander set his mind to something, it was his. He was an unstoppable force of nature, a fire that left only ruin in its wake. But he was asking too much. “You are asking me to go against the laws of the universe. You are asking me to lie about the most important thing that there is.”

 

“John,” Alex untied and re-tied his bowtie for the hundredth time, pacing the room anxiously. “Listen, I love Eliza. And Eliza loves me. I have spent my whole life loving her. Every momentous moment of my life, she has been there for. We  _ grew up _ together. We molded each other into the people we are. And I am  _ not _ going to throw that away because some stupid string I can't even  _ see _ is telling me that my soulmate is some girl I've never even met, and might not ever meet. As if some stranger could make me happier than my Eliza.”

 

To call the String stupid was blasphemy, plain and simple. Alexander was reckless when he spoke, it was just who he was, so John swallowed heavily and tried not to let show how offended he felt.  _ If Alex could see he would understand. If Alex felt this burden, he wouldn't ask this of me. _

 

Although John often viewed it as a curse, the Sight could often be quite beautiful. Every human on earth, walking down the street, shopping for their groceries, had a tiny red thread tied loosely around their wrist. The strings could grow and shrink depending on distance, tighten when one’s soulmate drew near, but were never restricting. They allowed humans free will, they could leave their soulmate as they please, the string would simply stretch to accommodate. They could even choose to deny it completely, like Alex, choosing only to trust in what could be seen. Many people found strong, resilient love with people other than their soulmate. And they were happy.

 

But they were only happy because they were blind.

 

Finding one's soulmate was like living underground in the artificial light and then coming out into the open world, feeling the sun on your face. It was drowning all your life and then tasting air. Other love could be sweet and good, but soulmate love was all consuming. It completed you. You were half and now you were whole.

 

And Alex was asking him to spit on that very notion.

 

“You have your free will Alex. You can marry her.” Alex had asked John to never tell him his soulmate, should Alex ever meet this person. Being one who wished to only watch from the sidelines, never wanting to interfere, John had always honored his wishes. “But don't drag me into this. Please. Don't make me lie like this.”

 

“John she's  _ asking _ for you.” Alex’s voice was breaking, his eyes frantic. “It is our  _ wedding _ day and suddenly she's alone in her room having doubts. She won't see me. Only you. And I know what she'll ask you.” John knew too. She would ask him the same thing Alex did.  _ Is it him? Is the man I'm going to marry my soulmate? _

 

“Why would you want to marry someone who values, as you would put it, some ridiculous kid’s fantasy over the real and solid love you two have?” John was just begging him now, every word dripping with subtext.  _ Don't make me do this. _ But John would do anything Alexander asked, he would until the day he died, and both were aware of this.

 

“John, you are my best friend.” Alex sank down into a chair, devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo and devastating sadness in his broken face. “I won't ask you to go against your beliefs. But I don't need the stars to tell me I love Eliza. I don't need some omniscient God who designed this string bullshit to ruin something i  _ know _ to be right.”

 

There was a knock on the door and Angelica Schuyler peeked her head in. She looked lovely in a rose gown, simple and elegant and down to her toes. The red thread around her wrist was limp, as she was distant from her Beloved, but John knew she wished it would grow taunt near Alex. She had always wanted him.

 

“Eliza wants to see you.” She spoke to John but her eyes were on Alex, giving far too much away.  _ Poor dear. _

 

The two boys exchanged one long look of quiet anguish, both pleading with each other, before John closed his eyes and followed Angelica, gently closing the door behind him.

 

They reached the hotel room a couple doors down and Angelica tapped her knuckles on the door.

 

“Eliza?” Her voice was all sweetness and sugar, a tone reserved exclusively for her sister. “John's here.”

 

“Come in.” Angelica didn't follow him as he slipped inside. 

 

Eliza looked stunning. Her gown was white and billowed around her feet, a cloud of lace and satin, and her hair was pulled back out of her face, decorated with small white roses. John had expected her to be crying, he didn't know why, but she was perfectly calm. The crimson of her thread leapt out at him against her pale dress, the string disappearing under the doorway and across the sea. 

 

“You look lovely.” He said as she patted the seat beside her, and she smiled.

 

“John, I want to thank you for telling me all those years ago that you have the Sight. I know it's a dangerous secret to keep.” 

 

“You are my friend.” He said with a dry mouth, dread slowly filling him like poison. She gave him a sad little smile.

 

“John-”

 

“Eliza,” He turned to face her. “What does it  _ matter _ if Alex is your soulmate?” 

 

“What?” Her expression was incredulous. “How can you say that when you-”

 

“If anyone is qualified to make a statement like that, it's me.” He ran a hand through his hair, small details jumping out at him in his nervousness. His tuxedo was baby blue. He thought that was a hideous color. He should've told Alex. “Eliza look, you know you love him. You know you two are good together. Why would you let anyone else tell you who you can and cannot love?”

 

“But...but the thread is there for a reason.” She whispered and John took a deep breath.

 

“Eliza, you love Alexander. This is just normal wedding jitters. What are you so scared of?”

 

“That it's not me!” She blurted, eyes now beginning to water. “That we’ll get married and be happy and fine and then one day he'll meet her, his  _ real _ soulmate, and forget I existed.”

 

_ Forgive me Alex. _

 

“Eliza,” He said after a very long pause, her words permeating the air and hanging in it, potent and taunting. “I'm going to tell you a secret. Something you cannot tell Alexander.” She blinked at him and nodded. “Alex has met his soulmate, and you're right, it isn't you.” 

 

She let out a small gasp and he continued quickly, forcing himself to look into her wide and trusting gaze.

 

“But Alex still chose you. He met this person, and he  _ still _ wants to be with you. Not them. He wants to be with you so bad, that he asked me to come in here and to lie.” 

 

Eliza closed her eyes, a tear slipping out, and was quiet for the longest heartbeat of John’s existence.

 

And then she smiled.

 

“Thank you John. Oh, thank you.” She hugged him to her ferociously and then stood up, smoothing out her dress with a newfound determination alight in her eyes. “Angie! Get back in here! We have a wedding to go through with.”

 

Only twenty minutes later, John took his place in line with the groomsmen, front and center behind Alex. He watched Eliza walk down the aisle, heels crushing the rose petals lining the path, with her father tall and proud beside her. His threat was cut, hanging limply from his wrist, as his wife had passed away. A person was only granted one soulmate. And while not everyone felt it upon meeting them, you certainly felt it when they were forever gone. 

 

Alex beamed at the sight of her, his whole body seeming to glow. He turned to look back at John, his eyes full of gratitude, and John winked at him, heart full to burst with the happiness on his best friend's face.

  
The red thread between them, tugging and pulling at both their wrists, grew taut as Alex looked at him, the space between them almost nonexistent. And then it stretched out once more as Alex turned back around to face Eliza.


End file.
